Lose My Soul
by washed away again
Summary: Buffy and Spike's last night in Sunnydale, aka the last night of the world. Takes place during the blackout in Chosen.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: All characters, stories, themes belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. End of Season 7. My take on the last night of the world (last night of Sunnydale).**

She had come. This apocalypse, for the first time, she would be selfish. She had never allowed herself to indulge in 'lasts' the night or day before doomsday. She'd always kept her head in the game, kept her eye on the prize, whatever the Hell that meant. Tonight was different, she knew it, he knew it, Hell they all knew it. Not everyone would make it tomorrow. Someone would be lost. And even after two years out of the grave she still mostly wished it would be her. This whole year she had been fighting running into Spike's arms, fighting screaming her love for him at the top of her lungs, fighting truly falling. Because this was a war, and most likely, it would be her last. Or his last. He had already buried her once, he deserved better than a poorly spoken love confession just days before he would bury her again.

He deserved a whole heart given to him, not the fragments of hers that had been stitched together too many times to count. She had always said that he was beneath her, but deep down she had known better. Even after everything he had suffered, he loved her blindly, without reserve. And she, she that was Slayer Comma The, couldn't find the courage to love him back, not like that anyway.

And still, she had come. Here she was, being selfish again, standing before him, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest because this was the end, and it was the beginning. If she came down here tonight it would mean, it meant…everything would change. She wanted to laugh at herself, she never worked better than when under pressure and the clock here was truly ticking and thus she finally had the courage to return to him.

"Spike," she said.

He continued to watch her. He wasn't going to make a move. This had to be all her and they both knew it. His cards had been on the table far too long, and he had made his amends long ago. Even though in her mind, there had never even been anything to forgive.

"I need you," she whispered.

He cocked his head to the side in a gesture that was pure Spike and it broke her heart to see it.

"We are probably going to die tomorrow," she continued.

"And that's why you're saying it?" Spike asked irritably.

She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes, "No. We are probably going to die tomorrow. And I want _my_ apocalypse."

Spike nodded.

"You think I chose you to die over Angel. And maybe I did. But I need you. And I don't think I'm coming out of this either. And ever since…" her voice broke and she took a deep breath. She had to get this out, she had to make him understand if it was the last thing she ever did, "Ever since I came back…ever since you came back…I've wanted it to be with you."

He took a hesitant step towards her.

"I want…you to hold me when it comes."

He began to smile and took another step towards her, confidently this time.

"I want you to whisper to me that everything is going to be all right."

He nodded and took another slow step.

"I want you to be with me till the end," her voice broke again as he now took his final step towards her and was just an arm's reach away.

"Because this time there's no coming back for me and I want…I want-

And she fell into his arms, her tears falling in earnest now, and she clung to him, as tightly as she could.

"Please tell me you understand," she begged, pressing her forehead into the bare skin of his neck. The familiarity of the gesture moved him more than her words ever could and he wrapped his arms around her and it was like it had always been, only now the words had been said, the best words he could ever honestly expect from this girl. And it was perfectly enough, suddenly. That weird dying girl had been right: she had told him. And typical in Buffy fashion, never in the way he would have expected.

She gripped him tightly, her hands fisting into his shirt, pulling him as close as she could. She looked up and found herself swimming in the blue depths of his eyes.

"I want to be with you, in the way you always wanted, in the way you always promised it could be."

He nodded solemnly and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted their mingled tears and the warm liquid of Spike's mouth which was always seeking, always finding hers. It had taken her so long, but he couldn't grudge her that. Angel had fucked her up more than Spike had ever realized. And she would never be able to give herself to him as fully as she had given herself to Angel because of it. But here she was, and she was going to try. He felt like the luckiest man on Earth to have this gift. Death was her gift, and with her death she had given him so much. With his death he would give her so much.

He broke away for a second when he realized where their hands had gone and the familiar desperate tangle their bodies had found.

"Buffy, what if I lose my soul?"

She shrugged, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, "I've known and loved you without a soul before. I think I can deal."

He shook his head, that was far too flippant, even though his stomach had done flips at the word 'love', "I mean it, love, what if I lose my soul?"

She felt her throat tightening again and she swallowed hard, "I don't care," she finally admitted with a resigned shrug. "I don't care."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't care," she whispered again, and pressed her lips to his once softly.

"I don't care." She trailed her lips down his throat, her hands un-tucking his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. She almost sighed in relief as she eagerly pressed her body up against his bare chest, pressed her cheek against his skin. She felt her heart ache at the impermanence of this, that tomorrow this, him, both of them, could all be dust. She felt a sob clutching at her throat and she tried to push it down as best she could. This was not a time for crying. This was a time for reunion.

She stepped back to peel off her lacey blouse and camisole, and then peeled off her jeans and panties. He took a moment to drink her in, her small breasts, the skin stretched tight over her sternum and rib bones, painfully tight he thought. He thought how he would make her happy again so that she would eat and sleep and be healthy and strong like she had been when he first met her. So that she would be alive the way she had been when he had first met her. And her battle scars on her neck. She couldn't stand the look on his face, the look that mirrored how she felt, the look that mirrored how she was trying desperately not to feel.

"Spike I…" She found herself beginning but he cut her off with a solemn shake of his head.

"Don't say it, love. Not tonight. Just kiss me again."

She nodded obediently and fell back into his arms. He lifted her up and carried her over to the pull-out sofa and laid her out. She stretched out luxuriously in anticipation. Why had she been denying herself this? They could have had weeks, hell, months of this, if she hadn't minded a little insanity with her sex, and that hadn't really been much of a problem last year. But she hadn't. She'd held him at arm's length just like she'd held Riley. Just like she always… And now they just had… 'stop it, focus on the now', Buffy told herself.

He undressed the rest of the way and laid down beside her.

"Spike, tomorrow is the end of the world. The end of Sunnydale anyway most likely. And I want you to leave with what you came for."

He cocked his head at her in that adorable look of confusion of his. She stroked his face affectionately and smiled.

"I want you to get what you came here for. The blood of the Slayer."

His smile immediately froze and he backed away from her touch perceptibly.

"What are you saying love?" He hadn't expected this, and he didn't know what to do.

"I want to close this, Spike."

"I don't want to kill you anymore, Buffy. So there's no way I'd be leaving with what I came for," he said with a nervous laugh.

"You came for my blood. And I want you to leave with it."

"Buffy…" He couldn't believe what she was offering, and how quickly and strongly his throat and body burned in response.

She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up and met his eyes, hers were filled with tears.

"I…I want you to. Angel…"

Spike groaned in frustration and turned away, rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling, "Why the bloody hell does he have to come into everything?"

"No, Spike, it's that…Angel, when he left. And he had a part of me in him. He owns me in a way no one…"

Spike scowled darker if that was possible and Buffy sighed in exasperation.

"Spike, look at me," she demanded.

He turned his head and met her gaze.

"If I die tomorrow, I want you to have marked me. If you die tomorrow, I want you to have marked me."

Spike stared at her thoughtfully. He never realized how much Angel's bite marks had meant to her. For a Slayer they would ordinarily be the ultimate mark of dishonor. But Buffy treasured them. And she wanted him to…him to possess her. Him to always have a part of her. This was too much, this was too close to something he couldn't accept, that he didn't deserve to accept, that he wasn't sure he was ready to face after all that had happened in the past year. But if this was the last night of the world…if this was the last chance…

Spike rolled over and positioned himself on top of her. She turned her head to the right, baring the left side of her neck.

He lovingly traced Angel's gray puckered smears.

"I wouldn't touch those love," he said softly, and turned her head the other way. At that, the tears glistening in her eyes fell as she closed her eyes.

He settled himself between her legs and angled himself into her. She moaned at the oh so welcome intrusion, so gloriously familiar. He began to move inexorably slowly, more of a pulsing than a thrusting and when she felt the tears on her cheeks drying in their tracks he began to kiss her neck. He licked and sucked until even she could practically feel the blood pulsing just beneath the surface. She heard the growl of his face changing and his teeth melted through her delicate skin like butter. Much to her embarrassment, she was the one who went wild at the sensation. This was so different than it had been with Angel, but then that would make sense wouldn't it? With Angel it was life or death, and it was the day before a painful goodbye. Oh wait, that applied here too didn't it?

She began moaning and thrashing wildly, clutching his head to her neck, begging him to pull back and bite her again, make it hurt, make it harder. When she got too impatient she flipped them over and gave him her wrist while she rode him frantically.

"I can't…" she cried in frustration, and much to her horror she found that she was sobbing again, and grinning like a madwoman at the same time, watching her blood pour down her hand into his mouth, his eyes the yellow of the demon and yet still the eyes of the man she lo…the man she wanted to love. This was just like it had always been between them except this was so much more, this was truly like Heaven. And she wasn't afraid anymore because no matter what she would be back there soon, and GOD GOD GOD the pain and-

She felt the orgasm seizing her and she fought it, not wanting this to be over, not wanting him to stop. He pulled away from her wrist to watch it take her. This was the best part, he thought, and grabbed her hips, reminding her to keep moving, never stop moving even as her body was losing control. He watched it start at her toes, cramping them painfully, her calves clenching into a Charlie horse, her thighs twitching, her stomach muscles flexing and contracting, and then her shoulders convulsed and it reached her voice in a silent scream. She was pure energy, pure Slayer, pure woman. This was his favorite Buffy of them all, the Buffy wrought silent and shuddering. She looked down at him and whispered,

"Take me."

He surged up and flipped them again so he was in control and he shoved himself into her so that the scream held taught in her body sounded and he clamped a hand over her mouth, which she bit into, and he came without warning, grabbing underneath her, pulling her up towards him, her whole body in union with his. This was the best moment, he thought as soon as rational thought returned, please, this moment, _stay_.

"Is that," Buffy tried to speak, swallowed and tried again, "Is that the way you always…the way you always…"

"Yes, love," he replied, still breathless, "That's the way I promised it could be. That's the way I always wanted it."


	3. Chapter 3

"Angel?"

"No, it's Wesley, actually. Wesley Windham-Price."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Hey Wes, it's Buffy. Could you put him on? I don't have a lot of time here."

Buffy glanced at the clock on the wall and the doorway to the kitchen, expecting Spike to walk through it at any minute. She'd left him in bed, saying that she needed to shower and get ready before the rest of the house was awake. Yeah, right, like she'd leave him in bed so she could take a shower the morning after the last night of the world. Although there was some blood that had needed washing off. So she'd taken the fastest shower in the world so she could make this phone call.

"Uh, of course…just a…" Wes sputtered at the other end of the line. The next sound was Angel's gruff "hello".

"Angel," Buffy breathed in relief.

"Buffy, are you okay? Has something changed? Do you need me to…"

"No, no, everything's fine here. Well, not fine, obviously, that would be overstatement of the century what with an Apocalypse looming in the next 12 hours…" her voice trailed off. She was babbling, like always. It should have irritated Angel after what she had said to him in Sunnydale, but instead he just felt a welling up of tenderness for her, for the familiarity of her and her voice stammering away. He knew she didn't stammer around Spike, she didn't need to. At the thought of the peroxide dolt the tenderness vanished and he answered her,

"So what do you want then?"

Buffy sighed, so he was going to make it difficult on her then. She didn't blame him, she had given him plenty of cause.

"I wanted to make sure you understand."

"Understand? I understand that you chose him over me, that's what I understand."

Buffy was so used to him taking the high road, being the bigger man that his biting reply cut her to the quick.

"That's not fair," she gritted out, "It's not that simple and you know it."

"I know it, do I? What I know is that you've been fucking Spike around the clock for the past two years and didn't even have the decency to mention it to any of your friends."

"How dare you," she growled into the phone, checking behind her to glance at the kitchen doorway. By some miracle she was still alone.

"Buffy I just don't understand. This is my chance, _I_ am the champion. You and I both know what I have to do for the Powers that Be to give me…" his voice trailed off and he was quieter now, "You chose him."

"I chose him to fight and probably _die_! Don't you understand I am trying to keep you, as well as the rest of humanity, safe?"

"No, you're trying to keep me out of your life."

"Angel, you are the one that left, not me. I'm still here, 1630 Revello Drive, feel free to stop by and visit anytime…for four fucking years. Excuse me that you want to come down here and steal _my_ apocalypse so you can get your humanity back."

"I would think you would want my humanity back," he mumbled.

She sighed, "I did. I mean…I do. I used to. I mean…this is my life, and you chose not to be a part of it. And he has been. He's the one who helped me get the dirt out from under my fingernails when I dug myself out of my own grave. So excuse me for finding a replacement for you."

"So he's just a replacement then? A prop, some toy? I thought you were better than that Buffy."

"This is my apocalypse, and it's his. He's earned it. And he deserves it."

"You do love him."

"I…" she said in a steely voice, "I don't know what I feel. But he knows me in ways I never imagined were possible. He's shared things with me that I…Angel, I…"

"You'd rather have him be human beside you."

"It's not that simple!" She caught herself shouting and whirled around and froze to see Spike casually leaning in the doorway.

"Buffy, this is a choice you can't come back from. You are choosing that you would rather die with him than die with me."

"No, I would rather him die than you die," she corrected, looking deeply into Spike's eyes. His expression was inscrutable.

"You would die with him. You would die for him."

She didn't know why Angel was saying these things. Why this was the moment after all these years. Maybe he truly believed she would fail, that she would die for the third and final time with no one to resurrect her.

"Buffy?" Angel asked, his voice jolting her from her reverie.

"Yes," she whispered finally, "I would die for him."

If it was possible, Spike became even more still where he was leaning, watching her.

"Buffy, listen, I gotta go, things are crazy here."

"Of course they are. 'Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless'," Buffy mocked without malice.

Angel laughed, "I think you're the hopeless right now."

"Yeah, I guess I am," she smiled slightly.

"And Buffy," Angel said quickly, like he had to get this out or he never would, "I'm glad you called, even though…even if…I love you."

Her lips moved to form the 'I love you' in reply as she had said a thousand times but the words stuck in her throat.

"Goodbye, Angel," she breathed, and set the phone back in its cradle.

"So you heard…" she said, addressing the blonde vampire in her kitchen.

"Everything," he replied. She blushed and grimaced. She tried to remember everything that had been said but she hadn't been thinking, and nothing had come out as it should. If this was one of the last conversations she ever had, at least it had been brutally honest even if it had been far from eloquent.

"Are you ready to die today, Slayer?"

'Slayer'. He used the word deliberately, giving her a chance to back away, to wipe away the marks of last night, to erase how far they had come.

'Slayer'. She knew he said it on purpose; it had been so long since he'd used it that right now it couldn't have been anything but intentional. He half-wanted her to slam him down again, push him away from her for one last time. She heard the former taunt, but now it just sounded like an endearment on his lips, and she wondered if it had ever been anything but.

"I'm always ready to die. It's time for our dance, Spike."

Her voice hitched as she said those words that she had held back so many times last year.

He smiled as he realized she hadn't taken the bait, that she'd seen through him, that she'd finally opened her eyes and seen him at all.

"So," she said briskly, "Let's get ready for our apocalypse."


End file.
